A Siren's Song
by Whatever Makes You Break
Summary: The late Sirius Black's daughter, Briney, is on the run after faking her own death. And with a new business, Voldemort's return, and an inevitable conflict looming in the future; Fred struggles to live his new life without Briney in it. Part II.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

_**Prologue**_

_--_

_One moment can reveal just  
how bad it could hurt to lose  
something you never really had._

_--_

**A/N: **_This takes place during the 6__th__ book._

Draco Malfoy stared down at his feet, attempting to ignore the pain he had endured for months now. His chest ached like his heart had been shattered, and perhaps it had been. He had grown a bit taller and a bit stronger, while his emotional strength had weakened quite a lot. Though he'd never admit it, he often stayed up crying while alone in his bedroom. He felt as if the walls were closing in around him, like an invisible hand was trying it's hardest to smother him. Sometimes he even literally struggled to breathe. Maybe Briney had been right about him, maybe he was just a naïve little boy who was blinded by power and had gotten in over his head.

He was certainly in over his head now. He had been branded by the Dark Mark. There was no going back now. No, it was too late for him. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, one of _them_. His parents had been so proud when he was inducted, his father mostly (even though he was on Voldemort's blacklist because of his mess-up at the Department of Mysteries). His son had become a mirror image of himself, a follower in his footsteps. Now he must go a step further. He was asked to complete a very important task by Voldemort, himself. He was assigned to kill Albus Dumbledore, arguably the greatest wizard in history.

He stood outside Voldemort's study, waiting his signal to enter. The butterflies in his stomach grew sharp bat wings and soon swarmed his gullet like mad. He swallowed hard to keep them at bay, frightened they may escape.

Tonight he had a legitimate reason to be terrified because, for once, Draco Malfoy was going to be brave. He was going to propose something to Voldemort that could quite possible earn him an early grave. However, Draco would not back down now. He would not veer away from what he was about to do. There was nothing more terrifying than what may happen if he didn't deliver his proposition. A slight shiver shot down his spine as he thought of the consequences. He shook his head slightly, clearing away the thoughts. The door suddenly opened, causing him to jump a bit. Voldemort sent him a malicious smile and welcomed him into his chambers.

"Young Master Malfoy, come in," Voldemort said, beckoning him inside.

"Thank you, My Lord," Draco bowed before scurrying into the dreary room.

Voldemort motioned for Draco to take a seat across from him, the same seat Briney had occupied just over a year earlier. Draco tried to appear confident in front of Voldemort, though he was petrified beyond belief.

"So, Master Malfoy, I assume Bellatrix has disclosed the details of your task to you by now," Voldemort smirked, linking his boney fingers together atop his mahogany desk.

"Yes, My Lord," Draco said quietly.

"And you of course accept your mission," Voldemort said with an upward inflection.

"Yes, My Lord," he repeated.

"Yet, you have requested still to speak with me," he said. "You know what you must do. What more is there to say?"

"It's just-" Draco began quietly. "I mean-"

"Spit it out, boy," Voldemort demanded viciously.

"If I complete my task," he choked out. "I would like your assurance on something."

"You _are_ bold to ask me for something in return, Draco," he hissed coldly.

"I apologize, sir, but I-" Draco began again.

"However, I will humor your request," Voldemort smirked, enjoying Draco's uneasiness. "What is it that you desire as compensation upon your success?"

"Safety," Draco said simply. "I want the safety of someone guaranteed by you, My Lord."

"And who might that be?" he scoffed.

"Nemesis Dolohov," Draco said firmly.

Voldemort's sickening smile faded immediately at the sound of her name. His grip suddenly tightened. His eyes surveyed Draco like a predator eyes it's prey. Malfoy's grey eyes avoided Voldemort's red beady ones, it took all he had in him to request something so bold.

"How dare you?" Voldemort spat, slamming his fists upon the desk top.

"Sir, I-" he began.

"SILENCE," he bellowed. "You have audacity to demand something so unfeasible? That girl deserves nothing short of death for the crimes she has committed against your Lord, and yet you have the gall to ask for her protection?!"

It wasn't difficult for Voldemort and the other Death Eaters to discover the true origins of Briney. When her body transformed back into her brother it was made blatantly obvious what had happened. She had killed her own brother, escaped, and was currently no where to be found.

"I am sorry, My Lord," he stammered. "I care deeply for her, you see. We grew up together. She's like my sister, and I cannot sit idly by and watch her be killed."

"You choose to defy me," Voldemort said, venom dripping from every syllable.

"No, My Lord, not at all," Draco said hoarsely. "If I defied you then I would not be asking for your authorization. My allegiance lies solely with you, My Lord, I assure you."

Voldemort stood from his chair and strolled swiftly to the thick glass window adjacent to them. Draco's stature stiffened at Voldemort's quick movements. The tall man's hands were laced firmly behind his back, gripping his wand that Draco hadn't been able to take his eyes off of. Voldemort contemplated Draco's childish request. He did not expect the young Malfoy to succeed with his delivered task. Not in the slightest. Voldemort merely saw Draco's emotional strain and inevitable death upon his unsuccessful attempt to kill Dumbledore as an easy way to punish Lucius for failing to obtain the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries and for being banished to Azkaban.

"I cared deeply for Miss Dolohov, and she betrayed me," Voldemort said quietly. "She is a devious succubus, yet you wish for me to spare her life. Why, Master Malfoy?"

"It's like I said before, My Lord," Draco said. "We grew up together, and I fear for her safety-"

"You love her, don't you?" Voldemort said so coolly that Draco swore he felt the temperature drop several degrees.

"No, sir-" he began.

"_LIAR_," he shouted. "You think you _love_ that foul creature?"

"Of course not, My Lord," Draco stuttered.

"You lie, Draco," Voldemort said with slight amusement in his tone. "I feel I must warn you, she will not return your affections. She has sold her heart to that despicable blood traitor, that _Weasley_."

"I do not expect her to return _nonexistent_ affections," Draco said. "All I ask is that her safety be ensured after I complete my assigned task. I ask for nothing more, My Lord."

"Such a selfless act," Voldemort scoffed, turning to face him. "A fools errand, I must say. But I will agree to your conditions, Draco, as long as you consent to mine as well."

"Anything, My Lord," Draco nodded hopefully.

"Then give me your arm, boy," Voldemort said, swiftly striding in front of Draco.

Voldemort took Draco's wrist against his to perform the Unbreakable Vow. He touched the tip of his wand against their skin and mumbled the initial spell, shooting golden binds around their forearms.

"If you do not succeed in your mission then not only will Miss Dolohov's life surely be lost, but your own as well," Voldemort said. "Are you willing to potentially sacrifice yourself for _her_?"

"Yes," Draco breathed.

"You, Draco Malfoy, vow that if Albus Dumbledore is not dead by the first of July you will so solemnly forfeit your own life?" Voldemort began.

"Y-Yes," he repeated.

"And you, my Dark Lord, vow that you will not allow any fatal harm to happen to Nemesis Dolohov so long as I accomplish my task?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Voldemort agreed. "I so solemnly vow."

The golden binds were broken at this, allowing the pair to separate. Voldemort then looked square in Draco's eyes, paralyzing him in fear.

"I swore not to slay her as long as you achieve your task," Voldemort explained. "So I suggest you be quick to complete it, because none of it will matter if she is already dead."

--

_**Dun…Dun…Dun…**_

**A/N: **_Where in the world is Briney Black? Thanks for all the wonderful reviews throughout 'A Death Eater's Daughter,' I greatly appreciate it yet again. I hope you enjoy this story even more. I know I already am. Loads of angst._ _We won't find out where Briney is for a few more chapters. Sorry, mates. Also, I randomly decided to add in that AU reason for Malfoy to accept Voldemort's mission. I thought it works well, and it gives me a lot more scenes to create. I'll wait until I get like 25 subscribers or favorites on this fic before updating again. I'm quite excited about it, really. I so solemnly swear that this going to be WAY better than Part I. Get ready!!_

_**PS: **__Don't forget to take my profile poll on the story. It's on the top of my page. Thanks, loves._

_**Coming Soon: **__Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Dumbledore speaks to Harry about Briney's 'death.' The Unbreakable Vow._


	2. Chapter 1: The Unbreakable Vow

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

_**Chapter One**_

_The Unbreakable Vow_

--

_Numbing the pain for a while will  
make it worse when you finally feel it._

--

The early morning sky was grey and dismal, as it had been for the past week. It seemed to mock Fred's desolate disposition. Heavy droplets of rain began to pound the adjacent glass windows of the flat. Troll snoozed lazily at his feet, taking advantage of the overcast skies. The tall redhead sipped his coffee, ignoring the awful taste. He was never any good at coffee brewing. The dark liquid mimicked the color of the circles under his eyes. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in a long while, since the night Briney died. That seemed like a million years ago, yet he could remember it as if it were yesterday.

George never brought up the subject of Briney, knowing it was something his brother didn't want to talk about. He also avoided the topic for fear he would blurt out the truth. Fred had thrown himself into his work, it sufficed for a decent distraction. If he concentrated on the shop then he couldn't think about his lost love. If only she didn't haunt his dreams…

Fred jumped slightly, startled, at the sound of George's bedroom door opening. George yawned as he adjusted his deep blue tie, slipping it under his tan corduroy vest that matched the rest of his apparel. Fred wore a similar outfit, his maroon tie was the only difference between the two. Fred brought his gaze back onto the _Daily Prophet_.

"You're up early," George observed, snatching up a dry piece of toast and taking a large bite.

"Couldn't sleep," Fred grumbled, not looking up from his paper.

"Oh," George said, swallowing hard. "Yeah, that thunder was pretty loud last night."

George knew all too well that was not the reason his twin had trouble sleeping, but he thought otherwise about bringing up a sore subject. He poured himself a cup of Fred's coffee and cringed at the taste the instant the dreadful liquid touched his tongue.

"Ugh," George griped, sticking his tongue out in disgust. "If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this _is _tea, bring me some coffee."

"If you don't like it then make your own," Fred snapped uncharacteristically, slamming down his paper to send his twin a nasty look. At the sight of George's taken aback expression, Fred lowered his eyes and picked up the _Prophet_ again.

"Sorry," Fred mumbled.

"It's alright, mate," George said, taking another sip of coffee fighting is urge to regurgitate it.

The pair sat in silence for fifteen minutes before George tentatively decided to speak again. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, clearing his throat before opening his mouth.

"Our profits are up thirty percent this week," George said. "I think we can expect another twenty percent increase once the book lists go out. You know how-"

"George," Fred interrupted, holding up his hand to quiet him. "Could we not talk about work right now?"

"What should we talk about then?" George snapped, annoyed with his brother's newfound antisocial tendencies.

"Nothing," Fred sighed. "Can't we just sit in silence?"

"That's all we ever do anymore, Fred," George said, rolling his eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," Fred said dryly.

"The only time you actually do talk to me anymore is regarding the store," George objected. "And lately you haven't spoken much at all. You've become a right prat if you ask me!"

Fred glared at his brother with his cheeks reddening with fury. He slammed down the paper and left the table, too angry to retort. He snatched up a couple books filled with their financial figures and gripped the door leading down into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"Do me a favor, George, and just leave me alone!" Fred yelled, slamming the door behind him.

"FINE," George bellowed, throwing his coffee mug against the door and shattering it.

Troll jumped up at the loud sounds, scurrying off into Fred's bedroom to find a quieter place to snooze. Fred, on the other hand, stomped down the stairs, trying to make as much noise as humanly possible. Once he reached the inside of the shop he threw the books onto the counter, scattering the papers across the wooden floor. He pounded his fist against the countertop ferociously.

"Bloody hell!" Fred shouted in pain, gripping his throbbing hand with the uninjured one.

He released a heavy sigh and slid down the opposing wall, sitting himself on the wooden floor, alone in the dark. His already dreary day was just getting worse and worse by the minute. First the weather, his awful breakfast, his fight with George, and now his hand. He was mad at himself for letting his frustrations out on George. He never fought with him, ever. They were inseparable from birth, and now Fred did nothing but push his brother and best friend away from him when he needed him most.

Fred allowed his forehead to slump into his open palms, collapsing under the emotional weight he'd been carrying for what felt like an eternity. He didn't even hear the footsteps approaching from behind him. It was George. He slid down the wall, taking a seat next to his brother. He held his hands in his lap, looking down at his fingers. Fred pulled his hands from his face and matched George's position.

"Sorry for calling you a prat," George said softly, staring straight ahead.

"Don't be," Fred said. "I _have_ been a right prat lately. Sorry for that."

"It's alright," George said kindly. "I've just been worried about you, mate. You haven't been yourself since… er-"

"Since Briney died," Fred said. "You can say it."

"I've been afraid to mention it to you," George said. "I know it's a really touchy subject, believe me _I know_. But when you're ready to talk about it... I'm ready to listen."

"I'm not ready to talk about it," Fred sighed. "But I think if I don't then I'm going to explode."

"Well, we can't have that," George smiled weakly. "We did just painted the place. Don't want to go ruining all our hard work."

Fred smiled faintly for the first time in a long time. He nodded graciously at his brother's attempt to lift his spirits. George beamed at the sight of Fred's slight smile, but his grin faded after a few moments as he searched for the words he'd been unable to find for ten weeks. Fred decided to speak first, hopefully breaking the ice.

"It just doesn't feel like she's gone," Fred began. "I just feel like she's watching over me."

"Well, she's not really gone," George sighed. "I mean, she's still looking over you, figuratively."

"No, I mean literally," Fred replied. "I think I must be going mad, but…never mind."

"What?" George inquired.

"It's completely idiotic," Fred said swiftly. "But I keep seeing this white dove, every once in awhile, but when I look back…it's gone "

"You may not know this, mate, but there is more than one white dove out there," George smirked nervously.

"I told you it was crazy," Fred replied. "But the only thing that made me suspicious was the fact that it had blue eyes, -her- blue eyes."

"Maybe you're just tired," George suggested. "Everyone starts to see things when they've been lacking sleep, and Merlin knows you haven't slept in months."

"Yeah, that's probably it," Fred nodded. "I'm just having trouble accepting she's gone. After everything we've been through… I just thought we'd both make it out alive."

"I bet she thought that too," George agreed. "But she knew what she was getting into from the beginning. She knew the risks of spying for the Order, and she accepted it without a moment's hesitation. Briney was playing one hell of a dangerous game, Fred, and she lost."

"I wish it'd been me," Fred started.

"Don't say that," George interrupted. "Briney wouldn't want to hear you say that."

"George, I'm miserable without her," Fred whispered. "I keep having this bizarre dream; I've been having it every night, actually. Everything's dark, but I can hear her voice. It's almost like she's calling to me, like I'm in some endless tunnel."

"What does she say?" George asked, swallowing hard.

"I can't really make it out," Fred admitted. "It's all garbled together, but I know for certain she says, 'Love does not conquer all, Fred.' I don't know what that's supposed to mean."

George shifted awkwardly on the floor, remembering Briney's speech from that night. He remained faithful to his promise to keep Briney's secret from Fred. It was the hardest thing George had ever had to do, but he didn't want Fred gallivanting after Briney. He knew Briney would only blame herself if anything happened to Fred in the process. George had a suspicion that Briney wouldn't be able to stay completely away from Fred. Now that he heard Fred confess his 'hallucinations,' his suspicions were only verified.

"Strange," George sighed. "Really strange."

"Yeah, I know," Fred nodded..

"Well, what do you say next week, after booklists are sent out," George continued, "we secure our finances and go off on short vacation. That should help take your mind off Briney, maybe we'll go to Romania, visit Charlie. I dunno, we'll figure some place to go off to."

Fred eyed his brother with great appreciation. He began feeling immensely guilty for the awful way he'd been treating him for the past few months. He smiled feebly to himself.

"Alright," Fred agreed.

George nodded in reply and got up off the dusty floorboards, extending a hand to help Fred up as well. They brushed off their suit pants and adjusted their vests. The streets of Diagon Alley began to fill with shoppers as George walked to turn the "CLOSED" sign to "OPEN."

"George?" Fred said with an upward inflection. "Thanks, mate."

"Don't mention it," George nodded. "You know, you're not the only one who cared about that girl, you know."

--

Dumbledore had notified Harry, who was still living on Privet Drive, early in the day that he would be by to pick him that evening. Forgetting to let the Dursleys know of their visitor, Harry was less than surprised when his plump uncle was taken aback by the arrival of the tall aging wizard. Dumbledore, always the shrewd company, was not phased by the ill-mannered treatment by the Dursleys. He simply overlooked their rudeness and focused on the reason he came in the first place. After Vernon opened the front door, Dumbledore entered with great composure, spotting Harry instantly.

"Ah, good evening, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking down at him from his half-moon spectacles with a most satisfied expression. "Good to see you."

"You too, sir," Harry smiled.

"Before we leave I must trespass on your aunt and uncle's hospitality for a bit longer," Dumbledore said simply. "I am certain they will not mind the brief intrusion."

Before Vernon or Petunia could interject, Dumbledore drew his wand so quickly that Harry barely saw it; with a casual flick, the sofa zoomed forward and knocked the knees out from under all three Dursleys so that they collapsed upon it in a heap. Another flick of the wand and the sofa went zooming back in place.

"Yes, that's better," Dumbledore concluded. "Might as well be comfortable."

The Dursleys shot suspicious and frightened glances at one another while Dumbledore sipped the tea that he had welcomed from thin air. He and Harry sipped the tasty liquid while the trio across from them sat utterly still. Harry couldn't help but suspect Dumbledore was rather enjoying himself. He always did have a knack for making awkward situations quite amusing.

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore began, turning to him, "I must tell you that Sirius's will was discovered a week ago and that he left you half of his inheritance. The other half, of course, was meant to be inherited by his daughter."

Over on the sofa, Vernon's head turned, but Harry did not look at him, nor could he think of anything to say except, "Oh, right."

"This is, in the main, quite straightforward," Dumbledore went on. "You add a reasonable amount of gold to your account at Gringotts, and you inherit all of Sirius's personal possessions excluding any family heirlooms. He left such items to his daughter, but I expect such treasures will be transferred to you now anyhow. I also must mention his house-"

"His godfather's dead?" Vernon said loudly from the sofa. Dumbledore and Harry turned to look at him. "He's dead? His godfather?"

"Quite," Dumbledore said curtly. He didn't bother asking Harry why he had not confided in the Dursleys regarding the matter. "Though the house is currently unoccupied, Sirius did leave number twelve, Grimmauld Place to Briney-"

"Briney?" Vernon scoffed. "Who's that?"

Harry got the feeling that Dumbledore was growing annoyed with Vernon's rude interruptions.

"His daughter, Brinalynne '_Briney_' Black," Dumbledore clarified so he would have no other questions to disrupt them with. "Now if there are no further interruptions I will continue."

He paused for a moment to make certain Vernon was finished. Once Dumbledore knew he had nothing else to interject he started again.

"Yes, as I was saying," Dumbledore said. "Grimmauld Place has therefore been abandoned for the time being. You see, the Black family decreed the house was to be handed down the direct line, to the next male within the name of 'Black.' Miss Black would have most likely been an exception to the male requirement, seeing as she was the sole remaining blood heir, but that doesn't matter now. I do not know how the house would be passed down now after Miss Black's passing. I fear that her short ownership of Grimmauld Place may have only helped to keep the house in the Black's name. This could lead to Bellatrix becoming the new owner. But because Briney never officially investigated whether or not she inherited the home, we may never know how strong the decree really is."

"What would have stopped her from inheriting the house?" Harry inquired

"The recipient is of Grimmauld Place is required to be a pureblood-" Dumbledore began.

"But she _was_ a pureblood," Harry interjected.

"That detail belongs to the eye of the beholder, I'm afraid," Dumbledore said. "Briney's father may be a pureblood wizard, but she is still Half-Veela-"

"What's a Veela?" Dudley asked, visibly shocked at himself for speaking.

Dumbledore stopped mid-sentence and smiled kindly at the pudgy teenager. He looked a bit pleased that Dudley had attained the courage to speak to him for the first time. He addressed the question as politely as possible.

"A Veela, young man, is a magical being that resembles that of a gorgeous blonde young woman," Dumbledore explained. "They retain the ability to essentially hypnotize men with their beauty and harmonious song. Exquisite creatures, really, they are the most delightful beings to look at, I must admit."

"I wish we had Veela," Dudley whispered dumbly to Vernon, sporting a slight smirk.

"Sir, about Briney-" Harry started, bringing Dumbledore back to the subject at hand.

"Ah, yes, thank you, Harry," Dumbledore said, turning back to him. "As I was saying, the reality still remains that her bloodline was called into question, which brings me to my point: The Order is unable to deem Grimmauld Place a safe headquarters at the moment. I mention Briney's bloodline specifically, because this makes me a bit nervous to whether or not you will inherit Grimmauld Place. You, yourself, are not a pureblood wizard. Until we assess our possibilities of returning to Grimmauld Place we have secured the Burrow as our current headquarters. The same protective spells have been placed there as on our previous center of operations. That is where I will be escorting you later on this evening."

Harry nodded solemnly. He debated whether or not he should ask the question that had been swimming in his mind since the night of their battle in the Department of Mysteries.

"Sir, could I speak with you about Briney's-" Harry started awkwardly.

"No," Dumbledore said so simply that Harry's words became caught up in his throat. "No, Harry, I wish to avoid the unpleasant subject of Miss Black's death at all costs. It is not a matter that I wish to address at the moment."

Harry saw an odd expression engulf Dumbledore's wrinkled face. He couldn't quite distinguish rather it was pain, anger, or disappointment. To be perfectly honest, it was probably all three. After a few more formalities Harry and Dumbledore set off for Slughorn's before Harry would be left at the Burrow.

--

Together two women stood waiting before an aging home, panting slightly, breathing in the smell of the dirty river that was carried to them on the night breeze. After a few seconds, they heard movement behind the door and it opened a crack. A sliver of a man could be seen looking out at them, a man with long black hair parted in curtains around a sallow face and black eyes.

Narcissa Malfoy threw back her hood. She was so pale that she seemed to shine in the darkness; the long blonde hair streaming down her back gave her the look of a drowned person.

"Narcissa," the man said, opening the door a little wider, so that the light fell upon her and her female counterpart too. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Severus," Narcissa whispered. "May I speak with you? It's urgent."

"But of course," Snape said.

He stood back and allowed her to pass him into the house. Her still-hooded sister followed without invitation.

"Snape," she said curtly as she passed him.

"Bellatrix," he replied, his thin mouth curling into a mocking smile before closing the door behind them.

Snape gestured Narcissa to his sofa. She threw off her cloak, cast it aside, and sat down, staring at her white and trembling hands clasped in her lap. Bellatrix lowered her hood more slowly. Dark as her sister was fair, with heavily lidded eyes and a strong jaw, she did not take her gaze from Snape as she moved to stand behind Narcissa.

"So, what can I do for you?" Snape asked, settling himself in the armchair opposite the two sisters.

"Severus, I'm sorry to come here like this, but I had to see you, I think you are the only one who can help me. I know I ought not to be here, I have been told to say nothing to anyone by the Dark Lord, but-" Narcissa said.

"If he has forbidden it, you ought not speak of it," Snape said. "The Dark Lord's word is law."

Narcissa gasped as if he had doused her with cold water. Bellatrix looked satisfied for the first time since she entered the house. Snape got to his feet and strode to a small window, peered through the curtains at the deserted street, the closed them again with a jerk. He turned around to face Narcissa, frowning.

"It so happens I already know about the _plan_," he said in a low voice. "I am one of the few the Dark Lord has told."

"I thought you must know," Narcissa breathed. "He trusts you so, Severus."

"_You_ know?" Bellatrix spat. "_You_?"

"Certainly," Snape said. "But what help do you require, Narcissa? If you are imagining I can persuade the Dark Lord into changing his mind, I am afraid there is no hope, none at all."

"Severus," Narcissa cried, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "He's my son…my only son…"

"Draco should be proud," Bellatrix snapped. "The Dark Lord is granting him with a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: He isn't shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, excited at the prospect-"

Narcissa began to sob earnestly, gazing beseechingly all the while at Snape. He said nothing. He looked away from the sight of her tears as though they were indecent, but he could not pretend not to hear her.

"You do not understand," Narcissa whimpered. "If he does not achieve his task then he will be killed!"

"Then he simply must succeed," Bellatrix said simply, as if she was ordering a salad.

"But he will not," Narcissa said insistently. "I know he will not! My son is incapable of murder-"

"The Dark Lord would not have bestowed such great responsibility onto Draco if he thought he couldn't handle such-" Bellatrix began.

"He has chosen Draco to do this as revenge on Lucius!" Narcissa shouted. "That is the only reason. He does not see him fit to complete his mission. He _wants_ him to fail!"

"Narcissa, I have already told you that I am not stupid enough to attempt to persuade the Dark Lord into-" Snape started.

She seemed to abandon any sliver of emotional restraint as she staggered over to Snape, clasping the front of her robes in her hands.

"Please, Severus, there must be some way," Narcissa insisted. "Some way you can help him!"

Narcissa gave a little scream of despair and clutched at her long blonde hair. Snape stooped, seized her by the arms, lifted her up, and steered her back onto the sofa. He then poured her more wine and forced the glass in her hand.

"Narcissa, that's quite enough," Snape said. "Calm down and catch your breath."

"I cannot calm down," she sobbed. "My son is going to be murdered, and no one will help me save his life!"

"None of this would even be occurring if it weren't for that stupid girl," Bellatrix interrupted. "Selfish whore, she is."

"Oh, Bella, she didn't ask him to do it," Narcissa said. "She doesn't even know he-"

"What are you talking about?" Snape asked, raising a curious brow.

"Oh, it seems the Dark Lord still leaves you out of the loop on some-" Bellatrix began.

"Shut it, Bellatrix," Snape hissed. "Go on, Narcissa, what were you saying?"

"Well, the only reason Draco accepted such a taxing mission is to protect Nemesis Dolohov," Narcissa cried. "Draco took the Unbreakable Vow with the Dark Lord to have Dumbledore killed by the end of the school year in return for the Dark Lord's promise to relinquish his personal efforts to dispose of her. But the Vow also promised that if the task is not completed, he will sacrifice his own life!"

Snape swallowed hard. The Dark Lord had not told him this bit of information. He opened and closed his mouth several times before continuing.

"Why would Draco do something so utterly idiotic?" Snape asked defiantly.

"Because he cares for her," Bellatrix interrupted her sister. "Though I can't understand why. She's blatantly disgraced her entire family."

Snape was visibly taken aback. He took an unstable step backwards, gripping the nearby armchair to steady himself. Draco Malfoy was going to commit murder to protect Briney? This was ludicrous. Yet, another thought hit Snape. The Dark Lord had agreed to terminate his hunt for Briney if Dumbledore was killed. One life for another.

"You know, she killed her own brother. And I heard Antonin was so broken up about losing his son he locked himself up in his bedroom for an entire week," Bellatrix continued. "He didn't even come out to eat."

"Bella, none of this pertains to-" Narcissa said.

"Yes, it does," Bellatrix insisted. "Your son has chosen this _siren_ over his own flesh and blood. Nemesis ran off, humiliating the Dark Lord and her entire family, though her mother certainly helped. I heard she's shagging Sirius- Well, I heard she _was_ shagging Sirius. That's where she was for all that time. _Whore_. Like mother, like daughter I suppose. The Dark Lord is so kind to have ignored Antonin's disgraceful roots. I guess it isn't his fault, however. How was he to know his daughter would turn out to be such a bit-"

"That's enough," Snape interrupted, shocking himself for his sudden remark. "It might be possible…for me to help Draco."

Narcissa sat up, her face paper-white, her eyes huge.

"Severus-oh, Severus," Narcissa sobbed. "You would help him? Would you look after him, see he comes to no harm? Will you make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"The Unbreakable Vow?" Snape said timidly.

Snape's expression became blank, unreadable. Bellatrix, however, let out a cackle of triumphant laughter. She crossed her arms over chest in a victorious manner.

"Oh, Snape, it seems young Draco has the impudence to take the Unbreakable Vow," Bellatrix smirked. "Yet, you are too much of a coward to do so yourself. See, Cissy, he won't-"

"I'll do it," he said quietly.

Snape did not look at Bellatrix. His eyes were fixed upon Narcissa's tear-filled blue ones as she continued to clutch his hand. Bellatrix's mouth fell open. Snape lowered himself so that he was kneeling opposite Narcissa. Beneath Bellatrix's astonished gaze, they grasped right hands.

"Will you, Severus Snape, watch over my son, Draco Malfoy, as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?" Narcissa asked.

"I will," Snape said.

A thin tongue of brilliant flame issued from the wand and wound its way around their hands like a red-hot wire.

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect him from harm?" Narcissa asked.

"I will," Snape replied.

"And, should it prove necessary…if it seems Draco will fail…" whispered Narcissa, "will you carry out the deed that the Dark Lord has ordered Draco to perform?"

There was a moment's silence. Bellatrix watched, her eyes wide.

"I-I will," Snape said.

A third tongue of flame, twisted with the others, and bound itself thickly around their clasped hands, like a rope, like a fiery snake.

--

**A/N: **_All of you are amazing for giving me so many reviews on the first chapter. I said at the end of my Prologue that I'd update as soon as I reached 25 combined favorites/subscriptions…well, I reached that in literally 6 hours. I have twice that now, and I decided to keep to my word. I wrote this chapter a LONG time ago, so I really didn't have any work to do on it. Well, I hope you lot are enjoying this so far. I know I am. I know some of you are probably frustrated with the lack of Briney, but I assure you her disappearance is necessary for the plot. She should reappear briefly pretty soon. _

**PS: **_I hope no one complains about the Grimmauld Place confusion. It's slightly AU because we all know Harry just tested whether or not he owned the house by controlling Kreacher. Basically, all you need to know is Dumbledore confides in Harry that he thinks he won't own the house now that Briney is dead, and she wasn't able to make a will including it. Therefore, Bellatrix may get it._

**PSS: **Check out "**Crossed Hearts**."

**Coming Soon: **_Harry returns to the Burrow. Fleur puts in her opinion on Briney. Molly tells Harry all about Fred's frustrations. Toby keeps to his word…sort of._

_**Review please.**_


	3. Chapter 2: Grimy and Phlegm

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

_**Chapter Two**_

_Grimy and Phlegm_

--

_Sometimes, when one person is missing,  
the whole world seems depopulated. _

_--_

Harry and Dumbledore approached the back door of the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons; Harry could hear the soft chuckling of sleepy chickens coming from a distant shed. Dumbledore knocked three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window.

After Mrs. Weasley tentatively let the pair inside, Harry sat quietly whilst Dumbledore and Molly exchanged pleasantries until Mr. Weasley arrived home as well. Harry attempted to eavesdrop on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's conversation on the goings on in the Ministry, but Mrs. Weasley would not allow it. She insisted he go off to bed.

"I've got Fred and George's room all ready for you," Mrs. Weasley said. "You'll have it to yourself."

"Why, where are they?" Harry inquired.

"Oh, they're in Diagon Alley, sleeping in the apartment over their joke shop as they're so busy," Mrs. Weasley explained. "I must admit, I didn't approve at first, but they do seem to have a bit of a flair for business."

"That's good to hear, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "How is er- Fred holding up?"

Mrs. Weasley's face suddenly grew solemn as tears instantly collected behind her kind eyes. Harry immediately knew he was bringing up a sore subject. Molly cleared her throat and dabbed her eyes with her patched apron. She sniffled once before she addressed Harry's inquiry.

"Oh, Harry, he's having such a rough go," she whimpered. "George has to keep me updated on him because Fred doesn't even speak to anyone from home anymore. He's just gone and buried himself in his work. Poor George is just as concerned about him as I am, everyone is."

"So, he's-" he began.

"Gone mad with grief," Mrs. Weasley said quickly. "We all have, really. George was the one to tell Fred the news, you know. Professor Snape saw her murder; so ghastly. It's just been so hard."

"Was it the killing curse?" Harry inquired. "All I know from Ron is that Voldemort-"

"Snape doesn't like to talk about it," Molly went on. "You can hardly blame him after he saw her- s-saw her."

Mrs. Weasley cut off. She choked on her words, unable to bring herself to say what she was thinking. It was to terrible to even say. Harry patted Mrs. Weasley's arm compassionately.

"I thought-" she began again. "No, I hoped Briney would be my first daughter-in-law. I loved her so very much. She was so good for Fred. I'd never seen him as happy as when he was with her. Now that Bill and Fleur have begun planning their wedding, I find myself wishing…er- I'm sorry, dear. I shouldn't be ranting to you like this. Go on upstairs now, Harry, no objections."

Harry hadn't heard that Bill was marrying Fleur Delacour, though he thought against acting surprised at the fact. It probably wasn't a good idea to comment on the subject at the moment.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Harry obeyed.

Fred and George's bedroom was on the second floor. Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at a lamp on the bedside table and it ignited at once, bathing the room in a pleasant golden glow. Though a large vase of flowers had been placed on a desk in the front of the small window, their perfume could not disguise the lingering smell of what Harry thought was gunpowder. A considerable amount of floor space was devoted to a vast number of unmarked, sealed cardboard boxes, amongst which stood Harry's school trunk. The room looked though it was being used as a temporary warehouse.

Hedwig hooted happily at Harry from her perch atop of a large wardrobe, then took off through the window; Harry knew she had been waiting to see him before going hunting. Harry bade Mrs. Weasley good night, put on pajamas, and got into one of the beds. There was the corner of something sticking him from inside the pillowcase. He groped inside it and pulled out a moving photograph. It was of Fred and Briney. They each hand an arm wrapped around the other's back, making bunny ears behind each other's head. Briney was clearly on her tiptoes to be able to reach her two fingers atop from behind Fred's redhead. They both sported identical broad smiles, and for a moment Harry could have sworn her even heard the photo laugh. Grinning to himself, Harry rolled over and was instantly asleep.

Seconds later, or so it seemed so to Harry, he was awakened by what sounded like canon fire as the door burst open. Sitting bolt upright, he heard the rasp of the curtains being pulled back: The dazzling sunlight seemed to poke him hard in both eyes. Shielding them with one hand, he groped hopelessly for his glasses with the other. He pulled on his circular spectacles and blinked several times before the blur faded. It was Ron and Hermione. After a pleasant exchange between the trio Ginny entered, looking flustered and rather perturbed.

"Hi Harry," Ginny sighed, plopping down beside him on his bed.

"Hey Gin," Harry smiled. "What's wrong?"

"It's _her_," she seethed. "She's driving me bloody mad."

"What's she done now?" Hermione sighed in an exasperated tone.

"It's just the way she talks to me," Ginny said. "You'd think I was three or something."

"I know, she's so full of herself," Hermione nodded in agreement. "I can barely stand-"

A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to become strangely airless. Harry hadn't experienced this feeling since…well, since Briney left. This figure of beauty, however; was a different Veela. It was Fleur Delacour.

"'Arry," she said in a throaty voice, swooping over to kiss his cheek. "Eet 'as been too long!"

"Er-" Harry choked. "Hi Fleur."

Fleur delivered a tray of breakfast onto his bed and rambled on about how bored she is being at the Burrow. Harry noticed Ginny's face grow a darker shade, clearly she was physically biting her tongue. After a few more minutes of listening to Fleur's rant, Harry feared Ginny would hex Fleur subliminally. She exited like she was floating above the ground or something.

"I take it you're not too fond of Fleur, eh Ginny?" Harry smirked.

"I cannot stand that cow any longer," she said.

"Calm down, Gin," Ron said.

"Shut it, Ronald, you become a right git whenever she's around," Hermione piped up, frowning her distaste.

"Haven't you gotten used to her being around yet?" Harry asked. "I mean it wasn't like this with Briney and she was twice as attractive as Fleur…"

Once Harry saw the dismayed expression on Ginny's face at the sound of Briney's name he immediately regretted bringing her up again. He noticed Ginny swallow hard as her hands tightened in her lap. He'd almost forgotten how close Ginny was with Briney.

"Briney wasn't like Fleur," Hermione interjected, placing a comforting hand on Ginny's shoulder. "She wasn't full of herself. She didn't fixate herself on her looks. I think they're more capable of controlling men when they try to. Fleur enjoys the attention more than you can imagine."

"Stupid _Phlegm_," Ginny shook her head.

"Come on, Ginny," Ron said tentatively. "Bill asked you not to call her that."

"I got the nickname from Briney," Ginny said swiftly.

"How did Briney know her?" Harry asked. "Some sort of Veela network?"

"Fleur is Briney's cousin," Ginny said. "Their mums are half sisters, they had the same grandma as well. Briney hated Fleur as much as I do."

"You're joking," Harry smirked. "I never would have guessed. Did Fleur mention it?"

"Only once, but not to me personally," Ginny went on. "They didn't get along at all. Briney told me about their relation when I mentioned the fact that Fleur was dating Bill last year. I nearly died laughing when she referred to Fleur as _Phlegm_. Briney also told me that Fleur refers to her as _Grimy_. I didn't think _Phlegm_ was smart enough to come up with a rhyme. She is such an idiot."

"If she didn't mention Briney to you then who did-" Harry began, wondering how Ginny knew Fleur hand mentioned her cousin if it wasn't to Ginny herself.

"Tell Harry about she said two weeks ago," Hermione urged her. "When we were all eating dinner together, you remember."

"How could I forget?" Ginny frowned. "That was one time _Phlegm _mentioned Briney, the only time. Fred and George finally found a free evening to come to dinner back home a couple weeks ago. Mum was so pleased. They had been so busy that we had barely seen them at all. Mum cooked a right feast and was practically glowing when they finally arrived-"

"I'm sure you can imagine how things have been with Fred," Hermione interrupted so Ginny wouldn't forget.

"Yeah, Mrs. Weasley filled me in last night," he said awkwardly. "Go on, Ginny."

"Well, we actually managed to get Fred to smile for a quick second," Ginny grinned to herself at the thought. "He hasn't done much of that lately, like Hermione said. Then we all sat down for dinner and it became apparent that Bill had filled _Phlegm_ in on Fred's situation with Bri-"

"I still say she was just trying to lift his spirits," Ron interjected.

"I swear to God, Ronald Weasley, if you stick up for her one more time so help me I will-" Ginny threatened, calming herself before continuing. "As I was saying, she mentioned to Fred that he should 'forgeet about _Grimy_ because she vas just a selfeesh girl who only tought of 'erself." Not only that, but she also went on to tell him that there is a big difference between the two of them. She said "_Grimy_ vas from dirty blood. 'er mudder, especially, ees a deesgraceful weetch oo married a monsteer-'"

"Apparently, their hatred of each other stems from their mothers," Hermione added. "Apolline, Fleur's mum, and her sister, Bernadette, do not get along with Ivana-"

"I reckon it's because Ivana is a pureblood Veela, and they're only half-bloods," Ron stated.

"It doesn't matter the reason," Ginny continued. "The point of the story is that Fred was so furious at her remarks about Briney, he got up in the middle of dinner and left without another word. Mum burst into tears, George left in a rage after him, and Bill and _Phlegm_ ended up in the loudest row I've ever heard. Fred hasn't been back home since, all thanks to _Phlegm_."

"I guess George managed to convince him to at least meet Mum out for dinner tonight because she's been fretting so much," Ron said. "Fred wanted to come home to welcome you back, but on one condition and that one condition is not possible at the moment."

"What's the condition?" Harry asked.

"_Fleur can't be within a thousand meters of the place_."

--

Fred knelt with his elbows atop the front countertop of _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_. He was anticipating the dinner he was guilt tripped into attending by George. He wasn't looking forward to the inevitability of forcing pleasant conversation again. He still wasn't over Fleur's moronic comments, the mere thought of her repeating those offensive words made his blood boil. Fred just wasn't in the mood to try to make his Mum believe he was alright.

The shop was beginning to clear out as his mind began to wander. They would be closing it's doors within the next ten minutes or so, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he would have to go to eat with Molly. He propped his chin up upon his closed fist, his eyes lazily peered about at the emptying shop. Fred wished Briney could see it, he knew she'd be so proud of him. He remembered telling her that he would give her a private tour before they opened the doors. He smiled slightly to himself, reminiscing the day he had told her that. It was the day they first met, the day she broke his nose in Magical Menagerie. His life wasn't the same after that.

"Oi!"

Fred snapped out of his daze and peered up at his twin brother, the source of the noise.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"Do we have any more trick wands?" George shouted from across the way, scribbling a few numbers down on his clipboard. "We're out up here."

"I'll check the back," he said.

"Try to hurry up," George said, not looking up from his paperwork. "Mum will be here any minute."

Fred pried himself of the counter and walked back into the stockroom. The stockroom was much like the shop itself, every inch was covered with merchandise and colors brightened the otherwise plain wooden walls. The box with "Trick Wands" was, of course, propped atop seven other crates. Whipping out his wand, Fred mumbled _Wingardium Leviosa_, levitating the heavy wooden box into the air. Midway down to the floor something caught Fred's attention from behind a nearby crate; two glowing green orbs. The air was suddenly flushed out of his chest, forcing him to lose his concentration and drop the crate. It shattered into a dozen pieces, spreading the countless trick wands across the floor.

"TOBY!" Fred bellowed.

Fred stumbled forward towards the tennis ball like eyes. Snapping several wands in half, he projected himself at the little elf. Toby appeared utterly terrified, he didn't even have time to react. Fred clasped his hand around Toby's bony arm, gasping for air to breathe normally again.

"Mister F-Fred," Toby stammered, trembling like mad.

"Toby, what are you doing here?" Fred demanded. "I thought you were supposed to be working at Hogwarts now."

"T-Toby is," he replied wearily. "T-Toby was j-just er-"

"What, Toby?' Fred asked suspiciously.

"J-Just checking up on Mister Fred," he said. "That is all."

"Checking up on me?" he inquired. "For who?"

"For T-Toby," he said fearfully. "T-Toby was just curious."

"That's bullocks and you know it," he snapped. "If you came here on your own accord then you wouldn't have been hiding. Someone's sent you to spy on me, is that it? Why, Toby? Who's sent you?"

Fred shook Toby a little to hard by his shoulders, his oversized head bobbled from side to side.

"T-Toby mustn't say," he stuttered nervously, causing Fred to stop. "S-She would be so angry with Toby, so angry."

"She?" Fred spat. "Who are you talking about?"

Toby suddenly gripped his hands over his small mouth, shaking his head violently with shame.

"Oh, no --- no --- no," he cried. "Toby has said too much! Bad, Toby, bad!"

"Calm down," Fred soothed. "It's fine, just tell me what's going on-"

"Toby cannot!" he squeaked. "She told Toby not to-"

"Who, Toby, who?" Fred shouted.

The little elf continued to shake his head 'no,' as Fred tightened his grip on his bony elbows.

"Briney?" Fred breathed.

Toby suddenly froze, his already large eyes grew in size. A faint "eek" escaped his covered mouth before he chose to disapparate from Fred's grasp.

"Fred dear?" Molly's voice called from behind him. "Fr-"

Mrs. Weasley instantly became immobilized once she entered the stockroom; no one could blame her. She came face-to-face with a shocking scene, he son was on his knees, holding an invisible person in front of him. His eyes looked insane, his hair askew. Molly clutched her heart, releasing an abrupt gasp. George came to a sharp halt next to Molly, startled at the sight he saw as well.

"Who were you talking to, dear?" Molly choked out.

"Toby," Fred said quickly. "H-He was just here."

"Oh," she managed to exclaim in disbelief.

George stepped forward and helped him off the ground, steadying him by his side. His twin was visibly shaken from his short conversation with Toby. George forcefully began dragging Fred out of the stockroom by his elbow. Molly stood still and watched as Fred babbled erratically.

"Briney sent him," Fred explained. "I know it."

"Uh-huh, Fred," George sighed, pulling him a little harder. "Whatever you say."

Molly burst into a fit of hysterics, tears streaming down her plump cheeks. She trailed behind the pair, sniffling loudly. Fred turned to his sobbing mother with a crazed expression.

"It's alright, Mum," Fred reassured her. "Everything will be alright now. I'll find Briney, bring her home, and then-"

"Briney's gone, Fred!" Molly cried. "Can't you just accept that?!"

"No," Fred said calmly, refusing to raise his voice. "No, I can't."

--

I struggled to find a comfortable position on the couch. It seemed like the larger my stomach grew, the harder it was for me to find a comfortable position. I hadn't had a good night of sleep in months. I couldn't blame my restlessness on my condition any longer. I knew my lack of sleep was due to my intense longing to see Fred…in person. I was ashamed of myself for giving in and breaking my promise to never see him again. I had caved and gone to see him in my animagus form. I just needed to make sure he was well, and I was so pleased when I saw he was. The store looked more amazing that I could have ever imagined. I was mesmerized by the wonder of it all. That was my fatal error, for when I stopped being hypnotized by the success of _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, I saw Fred had locked eyes on me. I flew out of sight before he could investigate. I hadn't dare return since that incident.

My letters with George remained dry and vague. I didn't reveal where I was staying or any distinct details. I merely inquired about everyone's wellbeing and let George know I was safe. That's how things had to be, and I'd accepted it long ago.

--

**A/N: **_Sorry this was short in comparison to my usual chapter lengths. If I combined the next scene from the following chapter then this installment would be way too long. I hope you enjoyed it all the same. I decided to add a small piece of Briney because she's not had her say at all yet. It may be short and vague, but she'll be back in her POV soon enough._

_**PS: **__I just want to thank you all so much for all the kind reviews. I appreciate it so very much!_

_**PSS: **__I have been pretty frustrated because I've been getting HARDCORE flamed on Part I lately. You see, my fic was put up for dissection on a site called "Dark Lord Potter." The site likes Harry-centric stories that have nothing to do with Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny. Basically, if it's twisted and dark then it's OK in their book. Seeing as my fic is nothing like that…it was ripped to shreds. I deleted the meanest reviews…like the one that stated he'd like it if he could go back in time and abort me. No joke, someone said that to me. Anyways, I got to thinking…a lot of you guys still read and hopefully like this story…so I'm going to keep on writing it if you keep on reviewing. _

_**Coming Soon: **__Fred becomes obsessed with finding the truth. We find out who Briney's savior was. Molly frets, and Briney grows. George becomes caught in the middle of something he wouldn't wish upon his worst enemy._

_**PLEASE REVIEW.**_


	4. Chapter 3: Time to Heal

_**Chapter Three**_

_Time to Heal_

--

_Our most difficult task as a friend is to off  
__understanding when we don't understand. _

_--_

"Mum, I wish you would just believe me," said Fred, his eyes dancing like mad.

"Sweetheart, I've told you a dozen times now that I believe you," said Molly in a skeptical tone, placing a steaming cup of tea before her son. "I'm sure Toby came to tell you Briney is still alive. Now be a dear, and drink your tea."

Fred rolled his eyes and obeyed his mother. Ginny looked on at her brother through the doorway, George placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder from behind. Arthur would be returning home soon, Molly had sent for him as soon as she'd convinced Fred to eat supper at the Burrow. Loud voices and fumbling footsteps could be heard coming through the front door. The four Weasleys in the kitchen didn't respond, choosing to remain frozen in time. Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst into the kitchen with cheerful grins on their faces. They immediately faded at the sight of the other's despondent expressions.

"What's the matter?" asked Ron stupidly, looking from Molly to George. "I thought you lot were going out to dinner-"

Molly abruptly burst into another fit of tears. Ginny shot Ron a nasty look before shuffling her mother into the other room to console her in peace. Ron shrugged and looked at Harry for support. Harry merely shrugged in reply. Fred released a heavy sigh at Molly's theatrics and turned to the trio.

"Hey there, Harry," said Fred, nodding at him.

"Hi, Fred," said Harry.

The trio and the twins stood in silence for a few moments before anyone decided to speak again, or even move. Hermione looked to Ron to inquire about the curious situation again to his brothers. After a short unspoken argument through facial expressions Ron gave in to her plea.

"So…what's got Mum all up in arms?" asked Ron, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well, it's…er-" started George, unable to finish his response and peering over at Fred.

"She thinks I've gone mad," Fred spat, gripping his cup of tea tightly with both hands.

"Oh," said Ron, eyeing his two friends wearily. "You mean she thought you were normal before?"

"Shut it, Ron," George warned.

"Alright, sorry," Ron smirked. "Why does she think that?"

"Because I believe Briney is still alive," said Fred, turning his back to them and sipping his tea again.

The trio looked at George for some sort of explanation, but he gave none. He merely stood absolutely still, staring blankly at the splintered floorboards. Hermione looked from Ron to Harry, waiting for one of them to say something. After a couple more insufferable moments of silence Hermione took a deep breath and stepped forward. She took an apprehensive seat beside Fred; he didn't even acknowledge her presence. Looking back at the boys a final time, Hermione placed a kind hand over Fred's. He still didn't give any reaction to her touch, opting to stare at the steaming liquid. Hermione cleared her throat and tilted her head to the side.

"Fred, um…well," she began awkwardly, pausing to shoot a pleading look at Harry and Ron. "Briney will always be alive in your heart, in all our hearts."

Fred quickly pulled his hand away from Hermione and rolled his eyes at her comment. He pushed his chair out from the table and grumbled shallowly.

"Don't insult my intelligence. Did you think telling me that would make come to my senses or something? I'm not insane, so don't treat me as less of a person," he snarled, placing his hand atop the table and leaning down to meet her eyes. "I mean- give me a break, Hermione, is that the best you can come up with? I thought you were supposed to be smart."

Without another word, Fred strode to the kitchen door, walked outside and slammed it behind him. Hermione's jaw hung loose, staring after him. Ron and Harry shared her expression. That was the last reaction they expected from the lighthearted jokester.

"He doesn't mean it," said George, taking Fred's seat. "He's not himself, so try not to take anything he says to you to heart. I know It's hard, believe me- I know."

"I thought he'd been er- getting better," said Ron.

"_That_, him being a royal arse, _that_ is better," said George, frowning and propping his chin atop his fist.

"How is _that_ better?" asked Hermione.

Ron and Harry each pulled up chairs at the table to join Hermione and George. Hearing second hand stories from Mrs. Weasley didn't give the proper insight to what was really going on with Fred. They knew George sugarcoated any news about his twin to Molly to avoid causing her to fret about him anymore than she already did. They'd been anxious to hear what exactly had been happening to Fred over the past few months, and George was the only one (besides Fred) who could give an accurate depiction of what that was. George sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with his open palm. He checked the kitchen door to make certain Fred wasn't in earshot before he decided to continue speaking to the trio.

"Well, I'd rather have him be an arse than a mute," said George, ruffling his hair. "Though another month of this, and I'll rip out his tongue me self."

"A mute?" repeated Hermione, raising her brow.

"Yeah," said George, anxiously peering over at the door again. "He went a good month where he did nothing but work. He didn't speak, literally. When he'd come back to the flat he'd just sit, staring into space. I'd try to start a conversation with him, but it was like he was a vegetable or something."

"That's awful," said Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Ron. "Mum would have wanted to know."

"What good would it have done?" said George. "You know as well as I do that Mum would have gone even crazier with worry, and that would have just made things worse. After awhile he slowly started to come out of it, but he still wasn't and still isn't himself. He loses his temper at random, he still barely speaks unless it's about work, and he just sulks about like a shell of the person he once was."

"What are you going to do?" asked Harry.

"Well, I refuse to give up on him. He's my best mate, and he'd do the same for me. We plan to go on holiday next week to try to take his mind off things, but that's only if Mum doesn't ship him off to the loony bin before then."

--

"Molly, I think you're being a bit melodramatic," said Arthur, placing a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. "The boy was in love, and he's had his heart broken in the worst of ways. If he _wasn't_ a bit unstable I'd be worried. I'm sure he doesn't _really_ believe what you claim. He's probably still just grief-stricken-"

"Arthur, it's much more than just grief," Molly whispered harshly, looking over her shoulder for shadows under the door to spot any eavesdroppers. "He's utterly delusional. He has convinced himself that Briney is _literally_ still alive. He told me he's seen her animagus in the store, her owl circling their flat, and I've told you about the incident from this evening about his house elf hallucination."

Arthur sighed heavily and sat down on the edge of their bed. He hadn't heard about the other incidents until now. He refused to believe Fred, who may have always been eccentric, could be going mad. It just wasn't possible. He and George had become so successful and level-headed, if there was ever a time for Fred to go mad it would be the farthest time from now. Something just wasn't right. Molly paced back and forth, burning a hole along the hardwood floor in their bedroom. She'd stayed up many nights pacing because of one or both of the twins but never because of something like this. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks. Molly turned to her husband, a conclusion set on her mind.

"I'll take him to be examined," she said urgently. "St. Mungos-"

"Molly, no," Arthur interrupted. "He would never agree to it, and besides, what good would it do? If he's perfectly sane then he'll hate us for doubting him. If he is, like you say, not in the right mind -which I'm not suggesting he is- then they'll just treat him like some sort of invalid up in that hospital. It is a lose-lose situation."

"Then what do you suggest we do, Arthur?" Molly snapped. "Just let him slip further and further into lunacy-"

"I suggest we give him time to heal," said Arthur rationally.

"It's been three months," said Molly.

"Yes, it has," Arthur nodded. "But I don't see a time limit to how long a person is permitted to grieve the loss of a loved one, do you? I know I certainly still miss that lovely young woman, and I know you do as-"

Molly stifled a loud cry, pulling her damp handkerchief out to dab her cheeks. She'd used the white linen quite often lately, and she really wasn't enjoying that fact. Arthur regretted causing his wife to weep, but he knew at the sight of her tears that he had won the argument. It was a rare win and an important one. Molly didn't reply to her husband's comment with any words. She simply nodded her head at him, blowing her nose as loud as a bugle.

--

"Oh, bleeding hell," I groaned, pushing myself up into a sitting position upon the aging couch. "If I manage to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep without you waking me up it'll be a miracle."

I smirked down at my enormous stomach, placing my palm upon the source of the kicking. Ever since the baby had learned how to kick that was all he or she wanted to do. Day or night, it was like a football match inside my stomach. I hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. I didn't mind too much, however; it meant the baby was active and healthy. That was one less worry on my brain. But I was sure I wouldn't get another decent night's sleep in the three or so months remaining before the baby made his or her entrance into the world. And Merlin knows I'd be constantly sleepless once the baby does finally arrive.

I slid back against the distorted couch pillows to attempt to catch a few more moments of shut-eye, but I was interrupted again by something other than the baby's kicks. I heard the locks upon the front door begin to unlatch from the other room. I struggled to get to my feet, pushing myself forcefully off the couch and holding my lower back with my hand. I waddled anxiously into the hallway, pulling my wand from my pocket. I pointed the tip of it directly at the door, waiting for my intruder to enter. Finally, I saw who had made the commotion. It was the only human contact I'd had in months, the person who had found me the night of my "death." I lowered my wand and scoffed slightly at my own paranoia.

"Well, that certainly was a pleasant welcome."

"Sorry," I smirked, welcoming my guest inside. "I know how terrifying a sleep deprived pregnant woman must be."

--

"Honestly, George, can you believe her?" Fred ranted, leading the way back into their flat.

"No," George sighed despondently, tailing behind. "She's completely mental."

Fred illuminated the flat's lights with a slight flick of his wand. He had been rambling about how ridiculous Molly had been since the moment the pair had set foot outside the Burrow. Molly did give up her pestering after her conversation alone with her husband, but her eyes spoke the words her mouth did not. For the additional hour or so the twins suffered through at the Burrow, Molly appeared to be choking back tears nearly the entire time, unable to take her eyes off Fred.

George had a knot in his chest the size of a bowling ball. He physically ached from guilt the he'd been suffering over the past few months. George had had countless restless nights over his decision to keep Briney's secret. He regretted agreeing to her terms more than anything now. He'd contemplated breaking his promise more times than he could count, but the possibility of Fred suffering fatal consequences swayed him from revealing the truth. Now that Fred had begun growing suspicious, George felt more and more cornered between what he wanted to do and what he must do.

"Er- so on a lighter note," said George, loosening his tie. "Where did you want to go on our holiday? Romania, Egypt, B-"

"How can you still want to go on holiday at a time like this?"

"What the do you mean?" asked George, pausing midway through his tie removal.

"Why would I leave now that I'm certain Briney is still alive?" Fred replied, looking at his brother as if he was a complete idiot for asking such an obvious question.

"Fred-"

"I don't expect you to believe me, George," said Fred, scooping Troll up off the floor and ruffling his furry head. "But I expect you to support me."

"How can you expect that from me, Fred?" said George, in an almost annoyed tone.

"Because you're my brother and my best mate," said Fred simply.

Tossing his tie upon the wooden tabletop, George collapsed into a seat in front of his twin. He scratched the top of his head, trying his hardest not to be infuriated with Fred's decision to cancel their holiday. After several uncomfortable seconds, George peered up at his brother.

"No," said George, visibly surprised at himself at his own reply. "No, mate, you can't ask me to support this sick new obsession of yours. I'm sorry, but I refuse."

Fred froze for a moment. It was blatantly obvious that he did not expect George's response. He really didn't know how to reply at all, actually. Throughout their entire life together there was not one solitary second when either of them felt utterly alone. There was no such thing as Fred without George, it was just implausible to even think about separating the troublesome twins. Yet, at that moment, Fred felt as if he was looking at a stranger; someone he'd never seen before. Holding Troll closer to his chest, Fred simply nodded curtly at his brother, and piveted towards his bedroom. Turning back for only a second, Fred looked George square in the eye.

"I never thought the day would come where my own brother would stab me in the back," said Fred, closing his bedroom door behind him and leaving his twin to stare on after him.

"That day came three months ago, mate," George mumbled to himself. "Now I'm just pouring salt in the wound."

--

**A/N: **_Hello, loves! No, I'm not dead! I'm still here, and I'm still writing. I've been super busy with school, and I've had no time for pleasure writing between my three bloody research papers. Ugh. Anyways, this chapter is extremely short in comparison to the others. I'm very sorry for that. It won't happen again! You'll be pleased to know I've already started the next chapter, and I'm hoping to have it completed and posted by Sunday. It maybe a lot sooner, it just depends on my homework load this week. I'm sorry for the lack of Briney (again) but I'm trying to keep her on the down low for awhile because of the fact that once I do write a full scene with her there is no turning back. By that I mean- once she's back in full force then a lot of the mystery and all that jazz of what is going on behind closed doors is gone._

**PS: **_I just want to thank all of you for the absolutely wonderful reviews and kind words to me. I appreciate it so much. You have no idea. I was so upset those jerk offs said that to me that I just went into total writer's block mode. You lot brought me out of it, and I thank you for that. I love you all so very much!_

**PSS: **_Who do you think the person at the door/the person who saved Briney is? And where do you think she is? (I hope they're not too obvious.)_

**Coming VERY soon: **_George is fed up. Fred finds a -hoot- of a clue. We learn Briney's savior's identity. We see what's happened to Ivana and Antonin. Draco gets determined. The kids return to Hogwarts with trouble brewing in the near future._

_**Review, please!**_


	5. Chapter 4: A Bad Feeling

_**Chapter Four**_

_A Bad Feeling_

--

_Man loves company even if it is  
__only that of a small burning candle. _

_--_

George didn't move from his seat for over three hours. He sat, his head in his hands, combating an internal battle he'd been fighting for three months. He couldn't keep up the façade any longer. If he experienced one more heartbreaking conversation with Fred then he would lose his mind. He felt as if the guilt was literally eating him alive. After his three hour meditation, George's conscience pointed him to one conclusion. There was only one way for him to be able to appease the situation once and for all. He would have to talk to Briney, face-to-face. If he could see her in person then she would see the awful pain he was suffering while being forced in the middle of something he wanted no part of. The maybe, just maybe she would come to her senses and come home to Fred. But before any of that could be successful, he would have to convince her to reveal the whereabouts of her hideout.

He tiptoed as quietly as possible to the desk opposite the fireplace. He sat down and slid out the center drawer, cringing at the slightest sound for fear that Fred would wake up. He pulled out a piece of parchment and dipped his quill in ink, contemplating what exactly he should write.

_Briney,_

_As always, I'm writing slow because I know you can't read fast. Ha, only joking. Unfortunately, I think that is about all the comedic relief I can muster for you at the moment. I know it's been a couple weeks since you've written; I hope all is well with you and the baby. I wish I could tell you Fred is doing well, but I'm afraid that would be a lie. He saw you in the window the other day and had a run in with Toby at the store. He's now convinced you're still alive, and everyone believes him to be mad. I haven't told him anything, but I don't know how much longer I can go on like this. It kills me to see him like this, Briney. _

_I need to see you face-to-face. I know you won't be keen on the idea, but you're forcing me to deliver you an ultimatum. You can either tell me where you are, or I'll tell Fred the truth. I'm sorry, but you leave me no choice. I can't carry this burden any longer. Hopefully see you soon._

_Yours Truly,  
__George_

George folded up the message and slid it into an envelope, sealing it shut. He walked over to Ares's cage and allowed him to snap his beak around the letter.

"Take this to Briney," said George, " and hurry."

He unlatched the window lock and slid the glass upwards, trying to be as quiet as humanly possible. Ares flew out into the night, carrying one of the most important parcels he would ever deliver. George nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard Fred's bedroom door open. Fred rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger before focusing his sights on his twin. George remained completely frozen as if his immobility wouldn't make him invisible. No such luck. Fred looked from George to the empty cage to the open window and back to George.

"Where's Ares?"

"I sent him on a delivery," said George swiftly.

"At three in the morning?" asked Fred, raising his left brow.

"Er-yeah?" said George with an upward inflection.

"Uh-huh," said Fred apprehensively, eyeing him suspiciously as he strode to the sink for a glass of water.

"Well, I'm off to bed," said George, delivering a long overdramatic yawn. He hurried to his bedroom door and gripped the doorknob but paused as soon as Fred's chilled voice reached his eardrums.

"I know you're up to something," said Fred, peering up at the distant shadow of Ares from outside the window above the sink. "You've been acting rather peculiar lately, and I intend on finding out what exactly it is that you're keeping from me."

"I haven't the slightest idea to what you're talking about," said George hastily.

"I figured you'd say that," said Fred. "No matter, it will just make it all the more rewarding as soon as I find out what it is exactly you are hiding from me. And believe me, George, I _will_ find out."

–

"I 'ave not seen the sun in months, Antonin," said Ivana hoarsely, sipping on a freshly filled goblet of water. "You cannot keep me locked up here forever."

"Can't I?" asked Antonin, sitting on a stone step dangling his arms between his legs across from her. "What, my dear, makes you think that you are trustworthy enough to be granted freedom after how you embarrassed me?"

"It was you who embarrassed yourself," Ivana spat, clambering to her knees only to be jerked back by her metal wrist restraints. "For it was _you_ who foolishly believed another human being could ever love you."

Ivana's eyes turned into hollow orbs, her fingernails transforming to claws as her mouth began to morph into a beak, scaly wings bursting from her shoulders. Her wings tore through her gown, flapping madly and slowly lifting her a couple feet off the hay-covered cold stone floor. She'd been trapped below the home she shared with Antonin since the night Sirius had died. Antonin and Grigor had created an ever so homey dungeon of sorts out of the wine cellar of their home whilst Ivana was away, and she had the pleasure of becoming its first inhabitant. She was held down by thick metal chains and shackles along with the fact that the room was Apparation proof. There were no windows, one solitary constantly locked door, and no means of escape.

"Tut tut," said Antonin, waving his index finger from side to side.

He flicked his wrist at her, shooting a golden flash of light from his wand. The jolt shot her backwards, harshly slamming her against the cobblestone wall. Her body instantly returned to its human form, blood oozing from the back of her head. She ignored it, slowly crawling to her hands and knees, the metal chains clanking loudly. She lifted her head with great difficulty to look up at her husband, bruises suddenly visible in the slight glimmer of light from the open door atop the staircase.

"We can't have any of that," said Antonin, smiling wickedly. "I thought you would have learned after the hundredth time that turning into your lovely little creature-"

"You know I can't control it," she snapped fiercely, coughing up a bit of blood.

"Ah, yes," he sneered, "control always has been an issue with you, hasn't it? You couldn't control yourself when you betrayed the Dark Lord, your son, your own husband-"

"I could give a bloody rat's ass about the Dark Lord," Ivana shouted. "And you killed our son! If you wouldn't have converted him into-"

"Shut your filthy mouth!"

"I will not," she screamed. "You are responsible for his death! You're the murderer!"

Antonin swiftly took to his feet and hastily slapped Ivana's already battered cheek with the back of his palm. Her weight transferred immediately from her hands to her elbows then the pain was too much for her to bare. She fell onto her side, releasing a small moan as a steady flow of blood began to escape from her lips. Her eyes blinked slowly, vision blurry. She tried desperately to focus her gaze on Antonin, who was standing above her.

"It should have been you," she whispered shallowly. "I wish it'd been you."

Then everything went black.

–

I placed the small piece of parchment onto the countertop, after rereading it for the sixth time. I watched it flutter aimlessly until it came to rest against the ancient wooden counter. Striding towards my usual seat on the sofa and sitting, with great difficulty I may add, resting my palm upon my growing stomach. I knew things weren't good back with Fred, of course I knew, but I had no idea what had been happening recently. The toll it was taking on George must have been even worse than he put into words as well. I was being so selfish. The situation was just going to get more and more difficult to control the more suspicious Fred became. As much as I really didn't want to, I knew I had to speak to George in person and straighten everything out. It was also clear that his threat to tell Fred the truth on his terms if I didn't agree to see him was very real.

I pushed myself forward and reaching towards the coffee table before me, picking up a piece of parchment. I didn't need to say much in reply:

_Dear George,_

_12 Grimmauld Place  
__London, England_

_Try to come after nine o'clock this Friday evening, if you can, it should be dark by then. Make sure Fred doesn't follow you._

_Love,  
__Briney_

I folded up the piece of parchment and scribbled George's name on the front. I placed the message into Athena's beak and opened the window for her to take flight. I basked in the summer air for a moment before locking the latch behind her. Merlin, I missed fresh air. I'd been staying at Sirius's childhood home almost the entire time I'd been er- _dead_. It was eerie, really, without the Order members living within its walls. Most of the time I could hear a pin drop from three floors up. I would have had to deal with Kreacher, but I ordered the vermin to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts. I wrote Snape to tell him where I had sent him, and his letter back wasn't exactly pleasant. I had apparently caused him quite a bit of strife because he now had to figure out whether or not Dumbledore would notice another house-elf addition or if he should just try to convince him Kreacher had been sent to Hogwarts to spy for Bellatrix or something. I never found out how he chose to deal with it. That was the last letter I received from him in months.

I was quite alone most of my days. I spent my time redecorating, painting, reupholstering furniture and reading almost every book in the house's library. Sometimes I would have conversations with myself because I'd gone so long without speaking that I'd nearly forgotten what my voice sounded like. I'd cleaned out every room of the entire home, as well. Mrs. Weasley would be proud. I even managed to conjure up a silencing charm on my ever so pleasant grandmother's portrait. I'm sure Sirius or one of the other Order members would have been able to do the same thing if they had more time. When you have nothing to do but read ancient spell books all day for months on end then coming across the proper spell to permanently silence her screams is bound to come to you sooner or later. Though, to be perfectly honest, she hadn't been too noisy since I became the sole tenant. I heard her mutter "bloody creature" once or twice when I walked by, but she appeared to be pleased with her surroundings since everyone cleared out. I guess she couldn't object all that much since it was obvious I was considered a pureblood…and, to my dismay, I was her biological granddaughter.

I found an extendable ear left behind in the bedroom the twins used to share when they all lived here. I threw it out the back window before my mind could object. I went to bed after that, for three days. I only got up to use the bathroom and get drinks of water. It wasn't even that I slept in bed, staring at the wall would be a more accurate depiction. I don't even remember blinking, my body was so numb with emotion that I couldn't move. I'd reverted back into what I had become for some time after I first left Fred. I was a shell of person, the walking dead.

"Sickle for your thoughts," said a familiar burly voice from behind me.

I grasped my chest in surprise, I obviously was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't hear the front door open. Turning around, laughing lightly at how jumpy I was.

"Ah, Alastor, you gave me one hell of a scare," I laughed. "Here, let me help you with those-"

He was carrying several bags of groceries, the reason he stopped by every couple weeks.

"Oh, no you don't," he objected, sidestepping me to lug the bags onto the wooden kitchen countertop. "You already do too much heavy lifting for someone in your condition as it is."

"Walking is heavy lifting for someone in my condition," I said, rolling my eyes. "Have you seen me? I'm a planet."

"You're hardly a planet, more like a moon of a planet," said Moody, pulling out a couple loaves of bread. "You still have, what? Three months left? When you're moving in on that ninth month then you can call yourself bleeding Jupiter if you want."

"Thank you, Alastor," I replied, pulling a jar of pickles out from a sack. "You always know just what to say."

Moody pulled out a jar of peanut butter and a box of crackers, folding up one of the now empty bags. I opened the jar and dipped a pickle into the peanut butter, then took a hefty bite. It was the tastiest thing I had eaten in a week. I watched Moody's expression swiftly turn to revolted as I savored the flavor of my unique snack.

"And they say I'm mad," he muttered, quickly yanking the peanut butter away from me. "Just go and sit down over there. I'll put the groceries away, just eat your pickle…_without_ any additional condiments."

"Oh, fine," I frowned, sitting down at the table. Moody slowly put away all of the food goods, one-by-one, until the burlap sacks were all that remained. He folded up the bags and straightened up the counter, his attention suddenly falling upon the edge of the counter.

"What's this?" he asked suspiciously, lifting George's letter up and reading it.

"That's private," I snapped hastily, taking to my feet as quickly as humanly possible.

It was too late. The letter was short, and Moody…well, he could read. I don't think it was intentional, more of a reflex, but his hand shut and crinkled the letter up into a ball. It fell from his hand back onto the table where I tried desperately to straighten it back out.

"Do you want to get your kid killed now or something?" asked Moody.

"Of course not," I spat, "but you read the letter-"

"Yeah, I read it," he replied, "and I think it's a load of bullocks."

"George hasn't asked a single thing from me since I left, Alastor," I sighed. "He's been there for Fred and kept my secret without a hidden agenda. I know that he's telling me is the truth. If seeing me is that important then I'll see him, just once. I don't want to do it, but I owe him at least that for all he's done, not just for me but for the baby as well."

"I'm telling you it isn't a good idea. You could very well jeopardize everything," said Moody. "I just have a bad feeling. You shouldn't let anyone see you until we know it's safe to do so. Don't tell him you'll do it, Briney."

"I already did," I said.

--

"Here you go," George whispered, handing Athena a cracker upon his nightstand in exchange for the letter.

George should have known Briney would have been hiding out at the old headquarters. If she inherited the location then it would be the safest location she could be in. He quietly pulled open his nightstand drawer and pulled up the trick bottom. He'd been saving all of her letters since the very first one and had just chosen to hid them away where Fred wouldn't find them. He was about to slip the small message atop the others, smiling to himself at his success, but he opted to keep this message out as a sort of trophy. He slid the note under his pillow, so he could bask in his glory later on in the night. He'd make some excuse to run an errand to Fred and head off to Grimmauld Place. He'd bring a present, a present for the baby…a rattle or something. Yeah, that's what he'd do.

"George, mate, I was thinking of going to The Leaky Cauldron for dinner," Fred shouted, interrupting the silence. "Want to join?"

Three loud knocks followed Fred's call from outside the door, unintentionally startling Athena, who began flapping around like mad about the room. He took to his feet, trying to calm the owl, knocking his wallet and a couple coins loudly onto the floor.

"Sure, great, thanks!" George shouted back erratically.

"You alright in there?" Fred called suspiciously.

"Just peachy, mate!" he replied. "Ares is just a bit rowdy!"

George opened the window fully and ushered Athena out into the sky. He slammed the window shut and rushed to open the door, looking a tad sweaty and ridiculously flustered. Fred was frozen, mid-knock, looking at his twin like he was crazy.

"Er- Ares is right here," said Fred wearily, pointing his thumb at the speckled owl on the perch behind him. "What were you _really_ doing?"

"Um, jumping jacks," said George with an upward inflection.

George almost fell backwards at Fred's response to his reply. Instead of continuing his recent trend of snapping back at or yelling at his brother; he did something George hadn't seen him do in a long time, Fred laughed.

"Jumping jacks?" he chuckled, patting his twin on the shoulder. "Is that really the best you can come up with?"

"Er-"

"It's alright, mate, I know what you were really doing."

"Y-You do?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, George," Fred continued, winking at him comically. "You're only human, I just wish you wouldn't do _that_ while I'm home."

"What do…what are you-" George started, eyeing him curiously. "Merlin, Fred! _That _is not what I was doing!

"Whatever, mate, let's just go eat," said Fred, pulling George into the hall.

"I wasn't!" he objected, walking towards the coat rack.

"Alright, I believe you," Fred smiled, looking back into George's bedroom and spotting his discarded money items. "You left your wallet, don't go thinking I'm picking up the bill again."

"Well, grab it for me then," said George, pulling his arm through his jacket arm.

Fred strolled into George's bedroom and knelt down to retrieve the wallet from the ground, but he paused. Instead of grabbing for the wallet, Fred picked up an object several inches away. It was atop George's unkempt comforter, which was tossed carelessly onto the hardwood floor. The object that Fred spotted was a feather, and not just any feather, a _white_ feather. He slid the soft avian keepsake through his fingers, knowing exactly who the owl was that it belonged to. His heart started beating rapidly, his throat suddenly dry.

"Oi," George called, causing Fred to jump. "You coming?"

"Yeah, I'm coming," said Fred, placing the feather into his vest pocket and collecting his twin's wallet.

--

_**What do you WANT the gender of the baby to be, and what do you THINK it'll be?**_

_**A/N: **__Merlin's beard, she updated! Oh yes, lovelies, I finally did. I would have never taken the initiative if it wasn't for you lot leaving me wonderful reviews and actually a lot of personal messages urging me to post a new chapter too. I've been much more involved with "Crossed Hearts" lately, because I like it so much more and I've been putting off this fic. I am so very sorry! I've also been SO BUSY with school, not to mention I've been sick with the H1N1 the past 5 days. That's been fun…let me tell you. However, I know how anxious you all have been so I bucked up and completed an update. I hope you like it. I won't have another until after December 16__th,__ most likely at least. Once I'm home for break then I'll probably pump out 3 or so new chapters._

_**PS: **__PRETTY PLEASE read my newly rewritten George/OC fic "Crossed Hearts" and review! I completely started from scratch again, and I think you will like it!_

_**PSS: **__Don't forget to take my poll on the fic. It's on my profile…which is recently updated btw._

_**Coming Soon: **__Some Draco action, Fred snoops, a big misunderstanding, and the star-crossed lovers reunite at last (I'm stoked for their reconnection)!_

_**REVIEW.**_

_Happy Thanksgiving,_

_Milena_


	6. Chapter 5: Beach Ball Breakfast Pt 1

_**Chapter Five**_

_Beach Ball Breakfast_

--

_**Part One** _

–

Fred imagined he must have looked like a right tosspot. He had to have, rummaging through George's things like a madman. He didn't intend on ripping his twin's bedroom without any restraint, at least that's what he told himself. Fred had been yearning for an allotted amount of time alone in their flat to search through George's things for any suspicious items ever since he had discovered the feather from what he was convinced to be Athena. When George informed his brother of his date that evening, undoubtedly with Angelina, Fred saw it to be his opportunity to do a bit of investigating.

However, there he sat on the edge of George's bed, alone with countless odds and ends spewed across the floor and nothing to show for it. Maybe they were right, maybe he was going mad. No sane person would invading their best friend's privacy on a whim, and certainly no sane person would believe someone who was so clearly dead to be alive. He looked up, his eyes catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror atop George's amour. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles encompassing his eyes, his skin paler than it had ever been. He'd aged over the past few months, there was no denying it. He and George could easily be distinguished now more than ever before.

"What am I doing?" he said to himself, shaking his head in the mirror.

He frowned, disgusted at what he had let himself become, and took to his feet. He would have clean George's room before he returned, unable to bare the shame of his brother discovering the remains of his crazed outburst. Fred turned back to the freshly unmade bed, sighing heavily before gripping the quilted comforter and dragging it back to the headboard. He tucked in the sides and returned the goose feathered pillows, fluffing them for good measure. He'd just bent over to pick up several toffees he'd scattered onto the floor when he noticed a small piece of parchment he hadn't noticed before. It was fluttering carelessly in the air, obviously expelled from the pillowcase. Fred snatched it in midair, crumbling it in his palm before smoothing it out to read the all too familiar writing.

_Dear George,_

_12 Grimmauld Place  
__London, England_

_Try to come after nine o'clock this Friday evening, if you can, it should be dark by then. Make sure Fred doesn't follow you._

_Love,  
__Briney_

Fred's fist closed involuntarily, a reflex caused by shock. He shouldn't have been so surprised by his discovery, it was exactly what he had set out to find, proof that Briney was alive. What was so shocking was that George knew all along and was all too keen on allowing Fred to think himself insane. Yet, with one question answered, only more were raised. Why had Briney lied to him? How had she faked her own death? But the most important question Fred had on his mind was, why was George the only one in contact with Briney and why was he seeing her behind his back?

However, Fred couldn't be angry. No, he was overjoyed. Though George's betrayal hurt him to his core, it also patched together his broken heart because he knew now that Briney was indeed alive. She was alive, and Fred was going to see her...whether she liked it or not. He needed answers that only she had the answers for, but more importantly he needed to her. He needed to see her face, her smile, feel her soft skin, her touch, experience her embrace, her kiss. Fred stuffed the parchment in his pocket and was still pulling on his coat as he darted out the door, down the stairs and into the night.

–

George lifted the knocker, thrusting it thrice against the ancient door of the House of Black. He clutched a small perfectly wrapped box, courtesy of the clerk at the toy store he'd visited. He'd never been one for pretty things. His stomached ached from nerves, yet he had no idea why he was so nervous. He knew why he was there, what he was going to say, and what he expected her to say in return. No surprises. Yet, when the glowing young blonde answered the door, her stomach protruding like a pumpkin was hidden under her pale blue robes, he was surprised at the sight of her. He'd imagined her pregnant in his mind, but seeing her before his eyes made everything real.

–

He was an adult, no longer a goofy teenager messing about with dungbombs. He was a couple inches taller if that was even possible, his hair cut shorter, a proper corduroy suit upon his slender frame that he shared with his twin. My breath became caught in my throat when I saw him. I don't know if it was because my mind was tricked into thinking it was Fred or if it was just the fact of seeing another human being besides Moody had shocked my brain into overdrive. Either way, a sudden gasp was audible as soon as George's eyes met mine. After several seconds, his signature lopsided grin slid slyly across his face and my smile followed.

"Hey Bri," said George in a quiet voice before looking directly down at my stomach. "Hey baby."

"Hi George," I replied.

I moved to the side, welcoming him inside and shutting the door behind him. Then we stood there beside the door, George rubbing the back of his neck and me biting my thumbnail. Neither of us knew what to say, where to begin rather. There was so much to say yet the words wouldn't come. My eyes ran from George's face down to the wrapped box in his hand. Cocking my head to the side, I opted to ignore the obvious subject for a few moments.

"What's that?" I asked, smiling feebly.

"Oh!" said George suddenly, as if he'd forgotten he was holding the shiny yellow package. "I brought this, it's for the baby."

"George, you shouldn't have," I said, my heart swelling.

"Well, you've got my niece or nephew in there," said George, handing me the gift. "What kind of uncle would I be if I didn't spoil 'em rotten."

I carried the present to the couch, taking a seat so George could sit beside me. I carefully tore apart the wrapping paper, making a joke about how I knew he could have never wrapped something so beautiful. When I reached the cardboard box, peeling back the folds, the insides took my breath away.

"Oh, George," I breathed. "Thank you so much."

Two silver rattles, one with a duck engraved and the other with a turtle. They shined as if the afternoon sun was illuminating them.

"I didn't know whether the little girl or guy would like the duck or the turtle, so I figured I'd get both," he shrugged. "The one you don't use I wager you can just give to Toby."

I laughed at his joke and brought him into an abrupt embrace, one in which he clearly wasn't expecting. I nearly knocked him over on the sofa, wrapping my arms around his neck snugly. It took a couple seconds for him to hug me back. I was so happy to see him I could barely stand it and his corny joke had simply sealed my enthusiasm.

"I'm so sorry, George," I breathed into his neck, my hypersensitive hormones making it impossible for me not to tear up. "I'm just so terribly sorry...for everything."

"Don't apologize," he replied. "I understand-"

"George, please don't lie to me," I insisted, pulling away but resting my hands delicately on either side of his neck. "You came here for a reason, and I don't expect you to sugarcoat what you have to say just because you see me in person."

George heaved a heavy sigh, turning his head to the side. I gently forced his face to meet my gaze again by pushing my thumb upon his jaw line. He frowned, obviously unenthused to speak about the issue at hand yet knowing he must.

"He's convinced himself you're alive," he began. "Like I said in my letter, he saw your animagus and had a run in with Toby which eluded to his conclusion. Mum is at her wits end, thinking he's gone mad. He thinks I'm stabbing him in the back by not supporting his quest to find you…he-…he's just not Fred anymore, Bri. He needs you-"

"I am the last thing he needs," I replied, lowering my head momentarily.

"You aren't comprehending the severity of the situation, Briney," said George, "He needs to see you even if it's just for an hour or-"

"You're deluded, George," I snapped, lowering my hands from his neck. "You honestly believe that once he found out I was pregnant that he would be perfectly fine letting me alone? Be serious. I don't like it anymore than you do, but we don't have a choice."

"Why?" George asked hastily. "Why do things have to be this way? There must be another-"

"Answer me this," I began. "Since I've been gone, how many times have you and Fred been bothered by Death Eaters or harmed or even threatened in any way?"

He remained silent.

"Answer me," I insisted.

"Zero," he sighed.

"Precisely," I replied. "And if things were different then he'd be dead, and probably you too for good measure."

"You don't know that," he said crudely.

"Yes," I frowned. "Yes, I do. The only reason Fred is alive is because those masked morons think that he is suffering much more alive than he would be six feet under-"

"And they're bloody well right," George interrupted, swiftly taking to his feet and beginning to pace in front of the coffee table.

I pushed myself up off the couch with great difficulty and stood before him, halting his rapid steps. I took his face in my hands and brought him down lower to meet my fierce gaze. His chest was rising and falling quickly, no doubt from a fury of mixed emotion.

"I love your brother," I breathed, "more than you know, and I could never live with myself if something happened to him because of me. I've been stupid, and I've been selfish, and if I let my stupidity and selfishness heed negative consequences onto anyone other than myself because of that-"

"You _are _stupid," George interrupted, placing his hands over mine upon his cheeks. "You're stupid to think that you've been stupid and selfish. Fred loves you, and the worst thing that could ever happen to him has already happened. He lost you."

I closed my eyes, swallowing his sentiments whole. I couldn't allow him to convince me to come back. I'd promised myself long ago that I couldn't come back until I knew it was safe, safe for Fred, safe for the baby. I reopened my eyes, catching a glimpse of a blur over George's left shoulder. I blinked several times, believing it to be a hallucination. When I realized it wasn't, my chest contracted, my heart ceasing its rhythm and my brain coming to a standstill.

"Oh, shit," I whispered, unaware I'd even spoken.

--

Fred stood outside Number Twelve, staring at the doorknob hesitantly, for several minutes before he finally twisted the handle. He was surprised it was unlocked, silently displeased with the fact. He attempted to be as quiet as possible as he entered, slowly shutting the door behind while he tiptoed across the hardwood floor. A dim glow attracted his attention from the living room, drawing him in. The closer he came to the light, the more audible a pair of voices became. He recognized both of the voices, one was supposed to belong to a ghost.

His heart fluttered when he determined Briney was just feet away from him, a smile unable to be concealed upon his face. Then Fred reached the familiar living room, with new decorations, he shook his head from side to side to make certain he wasn't dreaming. Before his very eyes was his twin brother, his best friend no less, and Briney, his…well, he didn't know what she was now, were holding each other ever so gently before a roaring fire. All he could see was the top of her blonde head, but the silvery shine was unmistakably Briney's. His heart instantly stopped fluttering and was lit aflame, enraged at the scene before him.

--

George raised his eyebrows, sending me a bewildered stare. My eyes remained glued over George's shoulder, unable to move, as my hallucination began to walk forward.

"I would have never believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes."

George released my hands and spun around. I slid behind him to hide myself, more specifically my stomach. It was Fred, my Fred. He must have followed George, it was the only explanation. I couldn't be happy to see him because I now knew that my cover was blown and things would never be the same.

"Fred?" said George in a nervous tone.

"No, it's Albus-bleeding-Dumbledore," he said sarcastically.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Found your note," Fred replied, holding the small bit of parchment up in his palm. "Thought I might tag along. I'm sorry if I interrupted-"

"It wasn't what it looked like-" said George quickly.

"It never is," said Fred, trying hard to look around George to see me with no avail. "Hello, Briney, long time no see."

I kept my mouth shut, my jaw locked in place.

"I can explain-" George started.

"Why don't you let _Nemesis_ do that?" said Fred, abusing my real first name to be a royal arse.

George moved to the side but I clutched onto the back of his shirt and moved along with him, hiding my belly. Fred strolled forward, on a mission to look into my eyes. I gripped George's shirt tighter, holding my forehead against his spine and closing my eyes, wishing the situation away.

"Come now, Briney," said Fred in a cold manner. "The least you can do is look me in the eye-"

Fred's gaze became locked upon the two rattles, his brain processing the objects for a long while. He snatched up the duck rattle and shook it before his body.

"What's this?" he demanded ferociously, throwing the shiny new gift across the floor.

I was infuriated that he had discarded George's thoughtful gift, so infuriated in fact, I released George's shirt and took a step towards the rattle before I could stop myself. I physically cringed as soon as knew my body was fully exposed. Squinting my eyes back open, I saw Fred's jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes the size of saucers.

"What the bloody hell is going on with your stomach?!"

"Er-I had a big supper," I said innocently, smiling helplessly.

"Actually, I think you must have eaten a bleeding beach ball or you're pregnant," Fred said, sounding like a complete lunatic. "And seeing as I doubt plastic suits your pallet…I wager it's option B…which leads me to believe-"

Fred rushed forward, thrusting George up against the wall by his collar. I looked at him like he was an idiot, not as concerned with getting him off George as I probably should have been. Fred gripped his twin's collar so tight every wrinkle appeared white upon his reddening skin, his teeth gritted. George couldn't breathe to object.

"Are you thick?!" I spat.

Fred kept his intense stare inches from George, unwilling to look at me.

"He betrayed me, you both did," he said hastily. "My own brother and my-"

"Did your Mum or Dad forget to tell you about the birds and the bees, Fred?" I sneered, noticing his shoulders relaxing a centimeter at my statement because of the sheer lunacy of it. "Because last time I checked it took nine months to make baby and unless I've got a litter of twenty in here I think it's safe to wager by looking at me that I'm about six months pregnant, you tosspot! You're mad if you think for one second the reason I've been in hiding is to evade you to sneak away with George. First off…Ew, absolutely not -no offense, George- Second of all, when do you wager this secret love affair would be taking place, eh? And third, do you honestly think so little of me that after I refused Lord -bloody- Voldemort's advances that I would all of the sudden succumb to the flirtations of someone else? I would never cheat on you! I love you, you barmpot, and the baby is yours for Merlin's sake!"

Fred looked from George to me, to George to me, to George and back to me again. Finally, after much internal deliberation he released George's collar, leaving him to lean against the wall, gasping for breath. Fred appeared more faint than his twin, however. His face became paler than before, his weight swaying from side to side. He ran his fingers through his fiery red hair, gripping it before finally releasing the handful.

"I-I need to sit down," said Fred, stumbling backwards and collapsing onto the couch.

--

_**PLEASE READ DETAILS BELOW**_

_**Dedicated to my readers and more specifically my reviewers of "Crossed Hearts," **which has stolen my writing heart at the moment. Sorry, mates, I much prefer Winnie and George to Briney and Fred. Briney drives me up the bleeding wall, but I have to keep her character canon now. I'm working on critiquing all my flaws to rekindle my love of this fic, but until then you'd be better off reading my George/OC because it'll be updated MUCH more often._

_**A/N: **It has been forever and a day since I've updated, and I know you lot have been anxious to see them reunite, so I figured I'd meet you halfway. I have had half of this chapter done for awhile, and I've started a bit more…but instead of waiting longer to post…I'll post it in two parts. I hope you're alright with that. Part Two shouldn't be far along after. No worries. I'm sorry it is a bit choppy, but the next bit will be much improved._

_**PS: **I know this probably wasn't the fluffy, mushy gushy, head over heels, love fest that you all expected, but that just wouldn't be them. They bicker, they argue, the make-up, and they're relationship is better/stronger for it. Also, without a bit of humor it wouldn't be a twins fic, now would it? I do promise that the next chapter will be more fluffy and calm for you sentimental readers out there._

_**PSS: **I'd like to reach 150 reviews before I update again because it is extremely hard for me to become inspired to write this lately, and it was because of all the recent reviews that I got off my arse and took initiative to post. Also…my internet has been jacked up the past 36 hours, and I don't wager it'll be fixed until I move back to my apartment on Sunday. Therefore, I am living off my brother's laptop, and right now I'm uploading this chapter off my flash drive onto my oldest brother's computer at his townhouse…I have a lot of brothers, sorry if I've lost you. My point, I have no idea if I'll be able to review respond or post for a few days…it depends on how often my brothers are home and if I remember to check my e-mail on my friends' computers. Sorry, I'm rambling, but you get the drift…_

_**Coming Soon: **Fred processes the shocking news and responds, Briney answers Fred's unanswered questions, and Briney and the baby's future is called into question…_

_**Review.**_


	7. NOT a Discontinued Notice Please HELP!

I know you were all extremely excited to see an update in your inbox, and I am just the worst sort of person to get your hopes up. I look like a bold-faced liar for saying I was going to post part 2 of the last chapter soon. I'm so sorry. I just cannot bring myself to finish this chapter. I know what I want to happen, etc, but I have to fight the urge to punch Briney... er- have Winnie punch Briney in the face.

Therefore, I have a proposition (one I will actually stick to this time & if I don't I give you permission to inbox message me every single day and cuss me out), if anyone would like to write Part 2 of my last chapter "Beach Ball Breakfast Part One" you are welcome to it. I'd obviously have to tell you a few spoilers, so you'd know what was going on and what to say and what not to, but if that doesn't bother you give it a go. I have a few preferred requirements:

Please be at least 17 years of age (if you're under age and send me something spectacular as an example of your writing then I'll reconsider)

Please have the Ch. reach around 3,500 words

Please allow me edit it and add in a few things if I have any (I would not gut it, swear!)

I'd give you complete and total credit before and after the chapter. I would certainly not take credit for your work. That is disgusting to do.

Anyways, if you're interested, please PM me an excerpt that's about 250 to 500 words (try to keep it under 1000, but I won't be mad if it's more or anything haha) re-writing any scene/chapter you would change in either A Death Eater's Daughter or A Siren's Song. You WILL NOT offend me if you completely rip a scene to shreds. In fact, do it! I'll leave this opportunity open until next Sunday (April 11, 2010), and then I'll choose someone (if you're interested and need a couple more days kust let me know). But ASAP would be preferred. PM if you intend on sending something in :)

In return, I PROMISE to all of you that I will update AT LEAST once a month from now on. That's a promise, not a load of crap like last time. I leave for England/France/Italy/Ireland in June, so I'll make up for it in May by updating twice. This chapter is just infuriating, and I cannot get through it. If I don't get anyone who is interested or if I can't find anyone who fits my writing style I'll suffer through it, but I'm scared it's going to come off bitter and stilted again. I don't want to let my quality of writing to suffer just because I love Crossed Hearts so much more than this story. I miss Fred, and want tah birff dat thur baby, but I'm really struggling with writer's block. I was disappointed in the last chapted, and I don't want to disappoint you all again. You don't deserve it after following this fic for so long.

I know loads of you really enjoy this story still, and I have thoroughly loved writing it, so I need your help!

Thanks so much for dealing with me && I'm so sorry for being such a crappy person,

Mila

PS- Sorry if there are any typos (I'm on WordPad && there's no spellcheck)


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